


Blue Mortality

by opheliasashes



Series: Blue Mortality [2]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone still thinks shes a witch though, F/M, I love vlad and lisa there isnt enough content for them so I was forced to make my own, Lisa (Castlevania) Lives, Mom said its MY TURN to write a fix it everyone lives nobody dies AU, Sam Deats you had better fix this, also Lisa gets to live because I said so, also now I'm ignoring season 1 and 2, basically I watched season 3 and went thanks I hate this, because it hurt me, use of dialogue directly from the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliasashes/pseuds/opheliasashes
Summary: If you were to ask her about it, Lisa Tepes would undeniably call herself an optimist. Not only did she see the good in every person, place, or circumstance she found herself in, but she actively sought it out with a feverish intensity. Drawn to hope and goodness like a moth to open flame, Lisa would hunt for the positive no matter the circumstance, chasing it down and locking her jaw tightly around it, refusing to let it go. Both parts radically optimistic and adamantly stubborn, Lisa was confident in her ability to find the good in any and every situation. Perhaps this was why her current inability to do so was particularly disquieting.A re-imagining of Lisa's fate had her husband returned to Lupu just a few hours earlier.
Relationships: Dracula/Lisa (Castlevania)
Series: Blue Mortality [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757377
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





	Blue Mortality

“There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,/ Rough-hew them how we will” -Hamlet; William Shakespeare

If you were to ask her about it, Lisa Tepes would undeniably call herself an optimist. Not only did she see the good in every person, place, or circumstance she found herself in, but she actively sought it out with a feverish intensity. Drawn to hope and goodness like a moth to open flame, Lisa would hunt for the positive no matter the circumstance, chasing it down and locking her jaw tightly around it, refusing to let it go. Both parts radically optimistic and adamantly stubborn, Lisa was confident in her ability to find the good in any and every situation. Perhaps this was why her current inability to do so was particularly disquieting. 

When the bishop and his men had arrived at her little cottage unannounced and uninvited, Lisa’s first thought had been: ‘Well, shit’. She had, in part, started to be wary of her current status in Lupu; not so much so that she had even begun to think about abandoning her patients in order to protect her own personal safety. This was the village where she’d been born; where her precious few memories of her mother were set, and where she’d insisted on raising her son. The hands that obscured mouths hissing out whispers dogged her whenever she went about her business, but it didn’t bother her. Gossip was a small price to pay for the knowledge that she was a force of good not only in the world, but in her home, that she was actually helping people. She’d always been Lisa of Lupu, even when she was Loony Lisa, the village remained attached to her name; the sentiment of it all had led her to miscalculate how her presence was tolerated by her neighbours. Now, as her house began to flood with the smashing hands of cruel men, it was abundantly clear that she may have made an error of judgement.

Watching her possessions smashed with what was clearly intended to be a show of force had been difficult, but she’d hoped it was a misunderstanding. However, the moment the Bishop had looked down his nose at her like vermin and demanded her silence, Lisa knew she was in trouble. 

“I will not be silent.” she exclaimed. Although her words had more bite than intended, she quickly followed with:“Just let me help.” She wanted to cling to the idea that this was not the scenario which was currently tying knots in her stomach; that there was a path out of this involving reasonable understanding. The Bishop snorted and walked by her, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“With Satan’s tool’s? Hmm? I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?” she stammered, too shocked to be angry at the false accusation. Before she could find the words to properly defend herself, she was interrupted by one of the men beckoning the bishop into her back room laboratory.

Although the winters were always hard, this January had been particularly miserable in Wallachia. It did not so much feel like seasonal wetness as it did a torrential downpour. There were infrequent breaks in the everpresent wetness, solely for the purpose of keeping humanity from drowning and being put out of its misery. The internal narrator of her thoughts had taken on Vlad’s voice, and with it his pessimism. She had missed him with every beat of the heart in her chest since he’d left for his travels, but now she felt that ache mutate into existential dread. She’d promised him that she would be safe and that there was no need for him to leave any sort of magic means of contacting him in the house. Ironically, because she had been worried about accusations of witchcraft, and now here she was: defenceless and alone. Panic bubbling in her chest, Lisa cursed herself internally. Right now was not the time to lose her wits. She needed to stay calm and in control. She needed a plan. God, she had known it was going to rain tonight. She’d smelled it on the air. How is it she could have sensed that and not this? Glass continued to shatter and with every crash against the floor. Lisa felt the life she’d so painstakingly built for herself and her family fall to pieces.

The Bishop issued an order to burn her beloved workshop to the ground. She and Vlad had designed this cottage together, but the addition of a personal laboratory had been a surprise. A present for their wedding anniversary, he’d called it. 

“So you can think of me when you go about your work, even when I am not here to aid you.” 

The tips of his mustache curled up when he smiled and his eyes twinkled in such a way that she couldn’t help but kiss him. There had been many kisses, among other things, between her and her husband here. How could a space filled with so much love be scoured from the face of the earth? It didn’t seem possible. 

Distantly, she was aware the Bishop had hurled accusations of ‘fearsome engines’ as well as ‘witchcraft and alchemy.” Internally, Lisa was judging the likelihood of her survival if she simply ran for the door. Lisa would never label herself a combative person, but she was familiar with the deadly outline of a concealed knife. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but as soon as the Bishop and his men had entered the laboratory she had realized every man that the Bishop had brought with him had some sort of blade hidden under their robes. Bleeding out on the floor was neither the ideal way for her to end the day, nor was it the way she wanted her husband to find her when he eventually returned from his travels. 

“It’s medicine,” she retorted. She was unbelievably tired of the same misconception which had dogged her for her entire life. Lisa was not a particularly accomplished magician, although it had to be said she had a sound understanding of the craft in principle. She was, however, a particularly gifted physician, both in terms of theory and practice. To see her art misconstrued in such an ignorant way was not only a familiar irritation, but now a newfound form of terror. 

“How can engines of the Devil be physic, woman?” The Bishop spit the last word like an insult. However, Lisa refused to be deterred by his ignorance; she was fully prepared to make one last stand. He’d backed her up against a table. Reaching for her book, Lisa armed herself. 

“It’s old knowledge, that’s all. Sciences from older times, lost to history. I have-- I mean, I studied times past and learned ways to serve our people more effectively, that’s all.”

“Paganism,” the man sneered as he dropped the book ideally to the ground. Lisa tried not to wince as she heard the spine crack. 

“No. It’s just science. It has nothing to do with any god or--”

“Nothing to do with God?” 

There was a light in the Bishop’s eyes now that could only be described as feral. Horrified, she realized she’d just given this man exactly what he wanted to hear. He hadn’t come tonight to investigate; he’d come to reinforce preconceived conclusions. The situation was very quickly devolving from bad to worse.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” 

Try as she might, her words were once again ignored. Her shoulders suddenly ached, as though forced to bear some great weight; the only thing Lisa could hear was white noise. Somewhere, in the back of her brain, she was aware that she was to be subject to an inquisition in Targoviste. She would be interned and ultimately consumed by flame. She’d die a witch; every good deed she’d ever attempted in her life swallowed or forgotten by the people of Lupu. Glory had never been what Lisa was after, but the thought of her life’s work slandered was too much to bear. Gritting her teeth was all she could do from crying.

“Please, please you don’t know what you’re doing”

“I know exactly what I’m doing. I am saving Wallachia from witches.” 

It was clear there was no convincing this man her practice was not occult in nature. Well, if that thought terrified him so much, then she would warn him of terrors by night. Lisa loved her husband and knew he loved her in turn. He had been a doting partner, an affectionate father, and that was precisely why she would not let this come to pass. Vlad had grown certainly, but it was because she loved him that she knew an untimely death on her part would loosen the floodgates for the insanity of immortality currently kept at bay. Lisa loved the man and knew how to soothe the monster, but in her absence there would be nothing to stop absolute carnage. 

“No, listen. Please, you don’t know what you’re going to bring upon yourself if you harm me!” 

“You threaten me?” At his words, Lisa finally snapped. 

“Listen! Just let me go. I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again. I can’t promise your safety if you harm me.”

“You dare menace me with Satan? Get her out of here before I strike her dead.” Two men gripped her arms and began to drag her from the room. 

“Not Satan. If you anger him, he’s worse. Because he’s real.” 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Lisa realized there was no convincing to be done here; there was no logic to be had, no bargains to be struck. They would not believe her, and she did not want to be the catalyst to the act that would lead them to see just what she was talking about. The only way out of this was through. As they dragged her out of the lab, Lisa seized her chance as they passed a shelf of vials. Mustering all the strength that she could, Lisa leaned back against the restraining arms of the two men and threw herself as hard as she could into the rows of vials. Powders and shattering glass filled the air and as the pandemonium erupted, Lisa managed to break free. 

She would have to make a gamble and run for her life. Heart pounding, she made a break for it. Swinging the door wide open, for one glorious moment Lisa tasted free air. It was wet and heavy. In that moment, she was fully prepared to embrace the dampness of the night. Thunder boomed, but Lisa had no fear of it. Darkness had always been a friend to her and would hide her from the prying eyes of these terrible men. 

Lisa did not manage to cross the threshold of her own door before they’d grabbed her again. Try as she might to wrestle her way out a second time, she could not break free. Though they were dressed as priests these were clearly men of combat, as much as they were of the cloth. The Bishop stalked over. 

“You dare defy me? You dare defy righteous judgement? You will die for this.” 

“If you kill me you will kill yourselves as well!” 

The Bishop stared at her for a long time. Lisa took one ragged breath, and then another. But instead of a reply, all the Bishop did was snap his fingers. One of the men restraining her moved from holding her arms behind her back to twisting her arm outward, in front of her face. The man grabbed her wrist. He squeezed it and then twisted, hard. Even with a high pain tolerance and a strong stomach, Lisa couldn’t help cry out in pain as her face contorted into a grimace. 

Suddenly, there was a deafening crash, much like thunder splitting the sky, electric in nature and just as deafening as the anger in the present storm. To the untrained ear, there would be no apparent difference between this sound and the sound of a crackling sky. Lisa knew better. She could taste the slight difference in the static in the air and felt her breath catch in her chest in a way that just might be _—_ dare she say it _—_ a glimmer of hope. 

What followed was the movement of the door, which did not so much slam open as it did completely fly off the frame. It blew to the side and landed with a thud. Then, deafening silence as time turned thick and sticky as tree sap; trapping them all in a moment which crawled by, inch by inch. Trailing across the floor was a long, inky shadow. So dark it almost seemed to create an abyss through its presence, the shadow lapped at the waistline of her dress as though it were the rising tide. There was now a man looming in the frame where the door had once been, a man far too tall to be human. 

“Vlad,” she whispered breathlessly. 

With a force too powerful to be a gust of wind but bafflingly invisible by nature, the Bishop was blown back against the wall. In the same instant, Lisa found herself pulled across the room and enveloped in a cloak so dark that it was hard to discern where the shadow ended and her husband began. 

“I’m alright,” she said, assuring him of the question he had yet to ask. His arm wound around her waist, he gave her a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement of her words. However, he did not pull his eyes away from the Bishop, now wiping the blood from a large cut in his forehead that had dripped down onto his eyes. Upon regaining a semblance of his vision, the Bishop gasped; all of his ego deserting his body in that same breath. The other men in the house appeared equally as cowed; the bald one going so far as to break down into sniveling tears. 

“What,” Vlad spat, “Have you done to my wife?” 

...

Admittedly, Vlad Dracula Tepes was a pessimist, but that was only because humans insisted on behaving in a way which made him irrevocably angry. Vlad prided himself on his instincts. It had been a gut feeling which had stayed his hand when Lisa had first stepped into the castle so many years ago, and it had been a gut feeling which prompted his early return home. Now, feeling as though he’d just managed to snatch Lisa back from the doors of death, he was absolutely certain he was never going to play a game of chance with her safety again. The next time he travelled, she would come with him. If not, there would be some sort of magic left behind to provide safety and call him to her side if need be. The thought of what might have been had he arrived even a few hours later was already a festering sore on his mind that would be slow to heal, if it ever did at all. 

Instinctively, his grip on Lisa tightened. She made a pained noise, and were his heart not dead in his chest, it would have surely skipped a beat at the sound. Pulling his cloak back ever so slightly, he could see Lisa’s left wrist was most likely broken. Already, it was beginning to swell. 

“They’ve hurt you,” he murmured as he gingerly took her wounded wrist into his clawed hand. He’d always thought his wife had beautiful hands. Every time he saw the white gold of her wedding ring catch the light on her hand, glittering and identical to the one he himself wore, the anger so integral to his existence was soothed ever so slightly. Even now, that ring was a reminder of the promises that they had made to each other, and that she was still alive, still here. He had not failed her. 

“Really, I’m fine. Nothing that won’t heal when it's set right and with time.” For a moment, he was almost calm. Then the Bishop made the mistake of attempting to rise from a crumpled mass on the floor and take to his feet. Pointing an crooked finger, outstretched and shaking, he stammered for a few seconds before managing to form actual words. 

“B-be-begone you foul thing! You have no power here.”

“No power? Would you care to test that statement?” Vlad snarled as he turned his eyes away from Lisa and back on the cowardly figure of the Bishop and his men. Fully prepared to unleash Hellfire, his actions were stopped only by the pull of his wife on his arm. 

“Stop! They didn’t know what they were doing. I tried to warn them and they did not listen, but now they’ve seen and it’s over. There is nothing more to be done here.” 

Of course she would come to the defence of the men who literally sought out to murder her. Normally, his wife’s compassion was a source of endless endearment, but at this particular moment Vlad was frustrated. She did not see or if she did, she was too forgiving about the affront to her safety and her importance in this world. And not just to him. Lisa of Lupu had a way of becoming important to everyone she encountered in one way or another. Her death would be to watch the stars flicker out of existence, one at a time. 

“You cannot expect me to let this pass without consequence. Even if we go, you will never be able to come back here Lisa. In fact, I fear for your safety in Wallachia at large, so long as this vermin draws breath.” 

In the darker parts of his mind, he was half tempted to teleport her back to the castle and remain here to fully resolve the situation. She’d never forgive him for it, and he knew it. Nonetheless, the thought was tempting. Spinning out of his arms, Lisa turned to face him, putting herself between him and the Bishop in the process. 

“Vlad, I don’t want this! I don’t want any more of this. I’m begging you, let these men go. Leave with me, right now. There’s nothing more to be done here.” 

“And you are fine knowing that everything you put into this town and its thankless people is about to go up in smoke? If I am not the one to raize this spot to the ground, he certainly will.” The Bishop had somehow scrambled together enough sense to stop speaking. Once, in a mood of self-indulgence long before Lisa had entered his life, Vlad had read through the old accounts of how the humans had described him. The most common phrase that they spoke of was sheer terror of staring him straight in the eye. Locking eyes once more with the pathetic waste of skin, Vlad hoped that what the Bishop saw himself run through by a wooden stake; utterly inconsequential and powerless to stop the crows from pecking out his eyes. 

“What’s done is done. I cannot control what they do when we leave here nor what they say about me. But I can control what I do, and you can control what you do. I am begging you to not commit an act of carnage in my name. I do not want it. Please Vlad, spare them. For me.” 

Had she put her mind to it, Lisa would have been an excellent magician. She chose her words carefully, infusing them with logic and power. If this woman asked it of him, he would bring the world to its knees for her. Instead, she asked him for the far more difficult task of mercy. Lisa, who had wanted nothing more than comfort in the knowledge she had used her life to make a difference, to ease the suffering of others even at the expense of her own. 

“You,” he growled to the Bishop,”Should be here to declare my wife a saint for all that she has done for your people. It is her good heart and her mercy alone that keeps you alive today, not mine. We are going to leave now. If you ever attempt to find her, to harm her again, I will flay you alive with such force, the fires of Hell itself will not compare to what I will do to you.”

“Y-you cannot harm me. I am a servant of God, I have His protecti-” 

“And I am the Devil, he who punishes those God rejects. If you had His protection, I would not be able to do this.” 

With a dramatic flourish of his arm, Vlad was across the room, holding tight to the Bishop’s arm. The old man’s bones crackled when they snapped. By the sound of it, Vlad knew the break would not heal clean without proper setting, which he was very unlikely to find, and so there would be pain in that arm for the rest of his miserable little life. With a shriek, the Bishop collapsed at his feet. A sneer directed at the rest of the men was all it took for them to run out of the room, tripping out over themselves to escape the same judgement. Once the house had emptied out so it was just himself, the Old Bishop, and Lisa, Vlad leaned down just low enough to whisper.

“When it hurts, you think of me, and know that this is nothing compared to what would have been and still could be if you ever have the misfortune of seeing me again.”

As he turned his back on the sobbing man, he could see Lisa was pale. Her discomfort made him almost sorry. She swallowed hard as he approached, but did not stop him from circling her into his arms. Her head fell heavy against his chest. 

“Take me home Vlad,” she murmured, closing her eyes. 

“Of course, my love. Let us go home.” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> A couple of things. 
> 
> Firstly, a huge shout out to the lovely Phae for not only being an incredible beta reader, but encouraging me to write this in the first place. Big love to you. Give her a follow at phae-ble.tumblr.com . 
> 
> Secondly, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I haven't published anything like this in a hot minute, but Castlevania has really gotten into my bones. Specifically, Lisa and Vlad as characters are deeply interesting to me and exploring them in this way has been so much fun. If you found this interesting, please let me know as I'm considering continuing this as a series exploring both Lisa's life pre-series, but also the ramifications of what would have happened had she lived. So if you enjoyed this, let me know! As well, you can find me at opheliasashes.tumblr.com .


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